#dave york x female reader

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Same Mud, Same Blood.

Chapter 1 - First Look by @scorpio-marionette

Pairing:Dave York x F!Reader

WC:3.9k

Rating:M

Warnings: 18+. Adult Content, Dark Themes. There are angsty stuff in this fic. Reader experiences extreme paranoia. Mentions of sex. Dave calls reader sweetheart and smacks her ass. Pretty much no smut here, peeps. I can’t write smut for Dave .

AN: My first time writing for Dave so go easy on me . A little research went into this to create the plot, however I have changed up the details of things to fit the story. Also, I would like to give a big shout out to my mother as she helped me create the idea for this story,and even giving it a read before posting. And another big shout out to Naomifor creating this series for all of us to join in on. It’s been crazy fun!

We jump right in where Naomi left off, so enjoy the story my loves.

Two agents exit the vehicle to enter the home. They leave the home with whom you now know as Dave York in custody. He stares at you as you watch everything unfold. Never shifting away from your frozen form. A trained assassin, a contract killer, and he has his eyes on you.

And those eyes plagued your mind hours after you departed from the man.

After signing an NDA, stating that you wouldn’t discuss the things you learned or seen today, you were escorted home. However, once you were settled back into your little bubble of comfort and feeling safe within the parameters of your bedroom, Dave York’s eyes were still burned in your memory, leaving an everlasting disturbance in your gut.

You felt tense. On edge. It was the wayhe looked at you; like you were his next target, and shaking off that uneasy feeling was an uphill battle. You struggled relentlessly trying to rid the image of his two black merciless orbs. Barely sleeping a wink during the night, you sighed a heavy breath of relief the next day when seeing the man on the news.He is incarcerated - you are safe.

Although they left out a lot of details of why he was arrested, you can’t really say you are surprised. The whole ordeal was shady the moment you walked into that house on the island, but that was yesterday’s problem now. Today, you needed to get back to work at the local Red Cross Learning Centre and teach a class of forty about basic first aid and how to properly perform CPR.

Working in the medical field serves many great purposes, but the one you’re thankful for the most is the distraction it provided for you today. It was like slipping into auto-pilot. Check in, greet and welcome the guests, deliver the ten point programme with enthusiasm, then finish it off with the CPR dolls.

Time slipped by you during all of this and before you knew it, half the day was gone already. It was a good class, a lot of the participants actually looked like they were absorbing everything you were teaching so you were satisfied with the session, but now that it was lunch, you are ready to call it a day and go home to eat.

Clocking out and saying goodbye to your fellow volunteers, you headed towards your car outside, but once you reached your car, got inside and put on your seatbelt, you froze at the pair of eyes staring back at you in the rear-view mirror. They weren’t your eyes. That uneasy feeling began to creep back into your bones, sticking the tendrils up on your back the longer you looked at the reflection.

Forcefully tearing your gaze away, you turned the key in the ignition and focused on the road instead; giving yourself a distraction from the stranger in the mirror. Dave York apparently still had a lasting effect on you. That feeling came back quicker than a freight train and it didn’t go away, not until you were home and free of looking into the mirror of your car.

Entering your home hastily, you raced straight towards the TV in the lounge and turned it on. The news once again stating that the man was incarcerated eased your tensions a little, but even his mugshot on the screen stared at you. His eyes pierced through your soul the same way he did yesterday, still like you were his next target.

Changing the channel on the TV, you needed another distraction and walked into the kitchen to prepare lunch. A headache was now accompanying the disturbed feeling in your gut and you figured food would be the remedy. After you turned the stove on and set out a frying pan, you went to the fridge to grab some vegetables and the last cut of fish you have left.

Your mind was in a haze, too distracted by all your emotions as of late and you started grabbing everything from the shelves. Jam, yogurts and cheese. Things you definitely didn’t need for pan fried fish and before you could even comprehend what on earth you were doing, your hands were full of junk. “W-what the?” You stuttered to yourself, looking over all of the items. “What the fuck am I doing?”

Putting them back one by one, your brows furrowed with even more confusion when putting the jar of mayonnaise back. You grabbed everything but the actual items that you require. The fish still sat on the shelf and the vegetables in the little draw. Your brain must have hit a switch and reset itself. Finally retrieving the food that you intended for, you shut the fridge and stood before the stove.

You opened the packet and lay the fish down in the sizzling hot pan, eliciting a mighty flame to kick up in your face but you didn’t step back, not when your mind produced an image of a explosion erupting, not when you heard distorted voices yelling commands in your right ear and not when you felt a stinging pinch in your shoulder. Radio static from what you can only describe as an ear piece was replaced by the sizzle of the food cooking, snapping you back to reality. The flame died down and the images you saw were gone.

It was two seconds at most, but you had a glimpse of something in those two seconds and whatever it was exactly, was enough for you to abandon lunch all together. Turning the stove off, you turned quickly and b-lined straight for your bedroom, the headache now raging a war in your head, it was amplified by tenfold and crippling you so much that you just wanted to bury your head into the pillow with the sheets pulled over your face.

And that’s exactly what you did. Climbing into bed and laying under the sheets, you buried your head into the pillow before pulling the covers over, however you no longer felt that safety and comfort within the parameters of your bedroom any more. It felt foreign, just like those eyes in the mirror of your car.

They were your eyes, but they belonged to someone else.

One Month Later.

To say your problems eased off over time would be a crock of bullshit. They get worse. So much so, that you had finally reached the breaking point.

Headaches progressed into mind clustering migraines, scarring a seemingly permanent fog in your brain. They never faded. Normal everyday activities became a nuisance, like you were in a repeating cycle. It was boring. The only sense of excitement you got was from watching your favourite action movies, but they too became old and boring, until you took a drive one day and found yourself in the bad part of town. Accidental or fate?

The place was filled with delinquents, sinners and killers. And it felt like home, like you fit right in, but on the third drive into this part of town, you had an… incident. It was bound to happen, someone would notice your expensive car, notice how it didn’t belong here and act on that piece of information alone, but you were prepared for that. How?And why?

You were inadvertently seeking conflict and when it approached, you took them out like blowing out a birthday candle. It was easy. Skills and expertise locked deep within your muscles broke free like a reflex and you beat down four men, leaving them all a groaning, whimpering mess on the tarmac below. When you came to, realizing what you had actually done, you jumped back into your car and hurried home.

Your breaking point was when you looked in the mirror. The woman that looked back was not you. Eyes dark and sunken into the sockets, flecks of blood splashed across your face with bruising around the knuckles on both of your hands, you didn’t recognise who you are anymore. You should have been horrified by what you did, but instead, you felt alive. More alive than you ever felt in your entire life, and you wanted to feel that again.

That was your cognizance breaking through the hysteria, the jolt of reality you needed to seek answers. Dave York, a trained assassin looked you in the eyes, triggering your fight or flight response and your body chose to fight but your mind chose the latter. You’ve been at war, with yourself.

Why did he have this momentous affect on you? It all started with him and what better person to ask than the very man himself. It took you one month of hell to bite the bullet and pay the man a visit in the Souza-Baranowski Correctional Center, to physically see him incarcerated.

Fear and anxiety drove you out of the city of Boston and into Worcester County where he is being held in a maximum prison. You need answers. Needed to see that he was chained up and definitely not out to kill you. That’s why you’re going batshit crazy, why you’re seeing a different person in the mirror. After a quick frisk search from the officer, you stood outside of the big metal door ready to enter. Your heart was erratic, pumping ferociously in your ears with terror but the demand for answers was soaring above every emotion that your mind could ever comprehend.

When the buzzer chimed and the officer opened the door, you looked inside to see the man himself lifting his head with an unreadable look. However, as you approached, a smirk started to appear on his lips. Tormenting and provocative, his smile got under your skin, boiling your blood with rage, and then he spoke. “Took you long enough, sweetheart.” Dave practically snickered, his chest falling with a sharp exhale. He leaned back into his seat, the chains around his wrists and ankles clinked with the action as you took a seat opposite him. If only looks could kill, the man would be dead with your expression, yet he still smiled. “Thought you’d never come around, Y/N.”

He knows my name. Your eyes narrowed with the thought, confirming your suspicions of being his next target. He must have someone on the outside doing their homework on me. “Why are you doing this?” You finally broke your silence with a question, but the dam burst and more spilled out. “Why am I on your radar Dave? Why do you - a contract killer - know my name and what the fuck do you mean it took me long enough!”

The man’s eyes widened with your outburst and for a second you thought he was surprised that you raised his voice but his expression slowly turned into what you can only describe as bewilderment. Knitting his brows together tightly, he tilted his head and looked you up and down like you were crazy. You are going crazy! Your eyes twitched with a rampaging desire to hurl yourself across the table and do things that you never thought you could possibly do with your bare hands.

“This was a mistake.” Muttering under your breath, you are done. Done with this conversation and done being made a fool. Your chair squeaked as you pushed back from the table, but his shackles clinked again, harshly this time as he tried to reach out. “No. Wait.”

“Why should I?” Retorting with a bitter tone, you didn’t even hear the sincerity cracking through his own voice. You crossed your arms, waiting for him to answer you but the man still looked at you with perplexity. He was pissing you off, wearing the only patience that you have left even thinner.

“Why did you come here?” Dave asked. His voice was now laced with concern, which you found odd, though you were intrigued as to what kind of game he was playing. He’s toying with me. You concluded. “Ever since that day…” but you took a chance on answering him, “…I’m different and it’s because of you that I am losing my mind. You have someone on the outside keeping tabs on me? Is that it? Is that why I’m out on the streets looking for a fight? Because I sense one coming?”

Shaking your head as you exhaled heavily, you lowered your gaze from the man and stared at the little chip on the edge of the table. You zoned out, thinking back on the last thirty days witnessing yourself going through these changes and not understanding why. Stupidly, you thought Dave would have all the answers but it seemed he just liked to watch you suffer.

“You’re seeing things, aren’t you?” He cut through your thoughts, calling your attention back to him, but you didn’t answer as he listed off some more of your symptoms.“Hearing things too? Intense headaches? Lack of sleep and extreme paranoia?”

After a few seconds contemplating what his intentions were, you reminded yourself as to why you’re here - to get answers. With a subtle nod of your head, the man leaned back into his chair with a chuckling sigh. He shook his head in disbelief before locking on with your gaze. “I know your name because I know who you are - who you really are.”

“W-what?” You stammered, rubbing your tired eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Dave tilted his head again, as if examining you before asking. “You really don’t remember do you?”

“Remember what god dammit!” You barked at him, to which he snapped back. “The Marine Corps! The DIA!” You looked at him like you had absolutely no clue what he was talking about, those things meant nothing to you, yet he leaned forward in his chair, speaking verycarefully.“You’re a DIA agent, or former DIA. I thought you were undercover that day you showed up on the island but apparently not.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You laughed, giggled actually. “I think you’re even crazier than me.”

“You joined the Marines when you were nineteen, transferred to DIA when you were twenty five and got put on my unit two years later. You don’t remember all of that? Don’t remember me, Kovac, Ari, and Resnik?”

“Oh, wow.” Shaking your head while laughing, you couldn’t believe you drove all the way out here for this bullshit. “Next you’re going to tell me I’m an astronaut.” Now you’re definitely done. Pulling back from the table and standing, you said farewell. “See ya later, Dave. Thanks for the laughs at least.”

“08, Middle East, Operation Green Sword…” He began yelling nonsense as you walked away, but you didn’t pay no mind to it. “2012, Korea, Campaign Z… 2014, The Congo, Project Alpha… 2017, Russia-” You halted at that one though. You recognise it, and Dave knows you do. “Of course you remember Russia. How could you forget?”

Releasing your hand from the handle of the door, you turned to face him, intrigued to know more. The year calls to you. The location brings a sense of familiarity, but you were in a coma the year of 2017, and the doctors said that when you awoke, it was kicking and screaming a name. That name has always bothered you, not knowing who they were or why you yelled for them.

“2016. Elista, Russia.” Dave expressed a thin lipped smile. He’s gripped your attention, but didn’t look happy that he has. “Buddhist Region hiding a high profile target. Operation-”

“Nighthawk.” You and Dave said the word in unison. Narrowing your eyes, you shook your head with a bafflement tone in your question. “How do I know what the operation is called?”

“Because… it was your operation, sweetheart.” Dave whispered softly. You could hear traces of remorse in his voice, as if he was apprehensive to speak. “And it was your last one.”

“Why? What happened?” You didn’t even know if he was telling the truth, if you were actually in the Marines or in the DIA firm, but one thing you definitely knew is that Dave York could shed some light on that name. “Who is Gemini?”

“He was your Russian target. Code name Gemini, birth name Ivan Stepanov.” You gasped as the words spilled from his mouth. Closing your eyes with an overwhelming flood of memories breaching the surface of your brain, you stumbled backwards when remembering whyoperation Nighthawk was your last. The mission was compromised; your failure was the cause. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” Dave apologized as you fell to your knees.

Ivan Stepanov the leader of the Sanitater-88 Division, an international right-wing extremist and Neo-Nazi terrorist network, was your first case file. You had been tracking him down for two years before narrowing in on the small remote town of Elista in Russia. Severe the head of the head of the snake and the body shall fall, that was your plan, to take Ivan out.

Operation Nighthawk was a solo Op, undercover and hush hush. Only the top brass knew about it, but you failed your task and the mission was compromised. Ivan, was not alone. You found him lying in bed, beside his wife and three young children, and you couldn’t kill him. Although the man was a monster, you couldn’t go through with killing a father in front of his kids. Abandoning the mission for a later time, a time when he wasn’t using his family as a shield, the man went on to kill hundreds the very next day, women and children included.

Your judgment call to spare three innocent children the trauma of watching their father die, cost the lives of so many others. Ivan got away after that, your only chance to eliminate the threat was snuffed out like a light. When you flew back to the states, you handed in your resignation and left.

You weren’t in a coma the year of 2017. You were in a scientific lab that had the facilities to replace your memories of that night in Elista, of your time in the DIA and the Marine corps. They replaced your memories with fake ones, as per your request, because you couldn’t live with the grief and guilt.

Now, all of those memories came back. Not just the memories of your mistakes, but also the many nights of passion you had with Dave. That’s why he thought you were working undercover that day on the island. The man thought you had come out of the shadows to save him.

Lifting your head to look in his eyes, the fear and anxiety long gone now, you no longer have that unsettling feeling in your gut. The look Dave gave you that day was not like you were his next target. He looked at you like you were his saviour. His golden ticket out of this hellhole mess that he got himself into. The same look he is giving you right now.

“There she is.” He says with hope and optimism. “You’re back, sweetheart.”

A smile appeared on your face and it grew wide as you began to laugh, the sound demonic and twisted. “Hello, Dave.” Pulling yourself up from the floor, you winked at him with a curt nod of your head. “Hm, it’s sure been nice catching up, but I best be going now.”

You had great pleasure watching his expression drop with disappointment before turning and rapping three knocks on the cell door. “Y/N, wait! Please, wait! You gotta get me out of this shithole, I don’t belong here! You hear me! I don’t fucking belong here!” His pleas faded out as you walked down the hallway towards the exit.

Dave York, is right where he belongs.

-

Three months passed by like days before you saw the man again. You found him sitting on your chair in the dark, waiting for you to get home.

Life has been good as of late, things have gone back to normal - sort of. You do a little contract work on the side here and there, taking down vigilantes, but you wonder why Dave York has broken free from prison, came here and not home to his wife and children.

“Come for revenge?” You say jokingly while emptying out groceries from the bags. He’s looking for a death wish if he’s actually here to kill you.

“Hello, sweetheart.” Dave chuckled. Still sitting in the dark corner of your lounge, he switched the lamp on and smiled at you. “Nope. It’s not revenge that I’m seeking.”

“Um-hum.” Humming away without so much as a care in the world, you grabbed two whiskey glasses and joined him. “I don’t care, Dave. Here, have a drink with me, it’s been a while.”

Perching yourself on the sofa opposite him, you placed the glasses down on the table top before popping open a bottle of whiskey and serving. Dave groaned deeply when standing. Taking the glass and tossing back the contents, he savoured the taste for a second before swallowing.

“Nice stuff.” He put the empty glass down then looked at you. “There, I’ve had my drink. Are you ready to hear why I’m here?”

“Hm, no not really but whatever.” Leaning back into your seat, crossing one leg over the other, you took a sip on your drink and relished the taste with closed eyes. When the name ‘Ivan Stepanov’ slipped past his lips, you reopened your eyes and looked at him with disdain.

“I’m back to work now - naturally, you know me and it’s been brought to my attention that the Neo-Nazi is on the radar again. Arms deals, wired transactions and other bad guy stuff.” Dave explained, to which you snickered in return. “Yeah, you know all about bad guy stuff don’t you.” Finishing off your drink, you sat up straight and rubbed a hand across your face with a sigh. “So what are you here for? You have info on him or what?”

“I’m looking to partner up. Help me get back on my feet and I’ll help you take down Ivan in return.” There it was. That’s the catch. Laughing to the man, you shook your head and stood up to face him. “Goodnight Dave, show yourself out.”

“C’mon, sweetheart. Same mud, same blood, remember? It’ll be like old times.” He reached out for your hand and pulled you into his chest. “Minus the sex of course… unless you want to?”

“Ugh.” You scoffed, but didn’t pull away. His grip was strong, assertive, although you could break free if you wanted to. Sensing your hesitation on the idea, he countered with a different suggestion while lowering his hand to your hip. “Ok. I’ll help you take down Ivan, but I get to keep whatever we find along the way. It’s expensive being a bad guy, so he will have money, you know?”

“No, I wouldn’t know.” Pulling away from his hold, he was getting too comfortable with letting his hand wander to the expanse of your ass, but you seriously considered his counter offer. “Hm. I suppose it would be nice to finish off what I started.”

“Great!” Dave clapped his hands together, then slapped your ass as he walked towards the door. “Pack your bags, I have a jet ready to take us to London.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there, bubba.” Shaking your head at him, you rolled your eyes when gave you a wink and warned. “I’m going to kill you for that when this is over, Dave.”

“You’ve said that before and how did that work? Couldn’t walk for the rest of the day after I was done with you.” He jibed in return. With a smirk growing on his face, you ignored his comments and headed upstairs to pack for London.

Ivan Stepanov, is now yours and Dave’s target- a dangerous duo when together.